


Everything in its right place

by asymptotes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, also practicing my characterizations, just doing some exploring of UST between these two idiots, set sometime after HLV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymptotes/pseuds/asymptotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i like writing what i want these two to say to each other</p><p>not beta'd or britpicked so my apologies in advance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything in its right place

It starts out innocently enough.

Sherlock is holding very still.

He’s crouched over his microscope, examining the proteins in a hair strand that was found at the last crime scene. If the cell walls of the strand pass his Gram test, it’s the butcher. If they don’t, the culprit of his latest serial murder case would be the barber. Fascinating, the way tiny components within a whole can reveal an entire new perspective on it. The molecule betraying the organism’s goals. Sherlock squints his eyes and adjusts the zoom on the slide. A few minutes go by in blissful one-track minded concentration when Sherlock hears a quiet thumping up the stairs to the apartment.

 

A gradually louder ascension. Heavier stomp, approximately 7 decibels louder than usual due to an estimated 15 pounds of additional weight the person is had to be carrying. The steps get louder and the person clears their throat before opening the door to 221b and suddenly John is the apartment. Sherlock beams internally at his being correct as he takes in John’s figure in the doorway, several of plastic bags from the shops at his sides.

John looks at Sherlock and nods, entering the kitchen and setting the groceries down on the counter.

“Sherlock.”

Always so short and business like in greeting. John could be flowery as he liked in his blog posts, but in person, he was so direct. So staunch about his experiences and opinions. Sherlock glances up at John through his fringe after a moment. 

“John. Good to see you. Did you buy milk, like I asked?” 

John sighs and a minute affection of his angry smile crosses his face. 

“Yes Sherlock, it’s here. Now if you would be kind enough to help me pack these away-” 

“Can’t, working.” Sherlock lowers his head back to the microscope. 

Even though his eyes are seeing cell walls and mitochondrias, he pictures John pausing for a moment in exaggerated disbelief with astounding clarity, and then his flatmate stocking around the corner of the counter to take out the groceries. John puts all of the jars and boxes and cans on the counter first. He starts with the boxes, placing them in to the pantry methodically. Door opens, shuts. Then he moves on to the jars, putting them on the shelves in the cupboard. The efficient rhythm John worked with grounds Sherlock and he squints, shifting the slide. 

Door opens, closes. 

He debates whether he should tell John the whereabouts of the source of the specimen he was studying. Next, John opens the fridge. Places eggs, milk and juice in their proper places before shutting the door and turning to the freezer. 

Sherlock’s breath stills. He counts seconds backwards in his head insistently. _5, 4, 3, 2, 1._

“Jesus! Christ, Sherlock. Are you kidding me?” Sherlock straightens up from the microscope and looks over at John quizzically. His flatmate’s head bent and his fingers press the bridge of his nose.

“What is it, John?” 

“What is it? How many times do I have to tell you? No body parts in the fridge. Jesus.” 

Sherlock shrugs and shuffles some papers surrounding his experiment nonchalantly. 

“Apologies. Must’ve forgotten.” John shifts and fixes Sherlock with a look across the counter. 

“You can remember entire libraries of encyclopaedic knowledge but can’t recall your flatmates one simple request?”

Sherlock sighs dramatically. “Don’t be ridiculous, John. You request for more than that. You request that I eat, that I don’t break into your laptop, that I -“ 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” John’s voice has a gruffer sound to it now. He bites out his words even more that usual and Sherlock has to fight to keep the corners of his mouth down. 

“Sorry, _Dad._ ” Sherlock says in the most sarcastic tone he can muster.

He peeks up and John has a sort of shifting gleam in his eye, and he watches Sherlock appraisingly. John gives him a once over, his eyes burning contempt on the way down and open predatory appreciation on the way up. John speaks and his relaxed tone totally betrays his fierce look in his eyes. 

“Yeah, you should be. Just remember not to do it again. Put it in your mind palace or something.” 

“Yes, okay, John.” Sherlock concedes. 

“Good,” John nods. 

And tension leaves the air suddenly. John gives him an easy smile and starts to clear up the plastic bags on the counter, calm as he ever is. Sherlock hunches over the microscope again smoothly and he watches John pack up out of the corner of his eye. The moment is over and Sherlock is still again, except for the fact that his heart is pumping extra loudly in his chest. Pump in, pump out. Sherlock listens, really listens to the easy quiet they settle into. Every beat of his annoyingly loud heart says _Yes, Okay, John, Yes._  


_  
_


End file.
